


Curse This Flesh Prison

by strawberryfrog12



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Chronic Pain, Gen, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has Chronic Pain, Mild Hurt/Comfort, idk if this is hurt/comfort?, this is my first time posting a fic please be nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29111364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfrog12/pseuds/strawberryfrog12
Summary: Jon’s nerve pain flairs up during the Apocalypse and Martin does his best to make him feel better.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Curse This Flesh Prison

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off my own experiences with nerve pain and my fucked up legs. Idk if nerve pain can strictly be considered chronic pain but it’s the best fit. If it’s problematic to call nerve pain chronic pain, or if there’s a better term for chronic nerve pain, please let me know!

Sometimes, Jon hated having a body. Martin made a lot of “flesh prison” jokes, and usually Jon rolled his eyes at them, but at times, it really did feel like a prison. This time, it was the nerve pain that had done it. An awful, aching pain that started in his hips and spread all the way down his leg, putting pressure on his feet and knees. It was horribly uncomfortable, and no amount of shifting of weight or limping would help it. The only way was to sit down on the ground for several minutes and deeply stretch the muscle that was causing the pain, and that was hardly an option in the nightmare hellscape they found themselves traveling through. Plus, the stretching could hurt even more than the pain itself at times. 

So Jon grit his teeth and continued his trudge through the dry, dead landscape, while Martin tried to make jokes and tell him stories, mistaking his grimace of pain for regular old apocalypse blues. 

“Oh, this is a funny one, Jon. So this woman had come to the Institute to give a statement, right? And I was trying so hard to work with her, but I obviously don’t have your magic-therapist-powers, so I just kept asking her what happened, and all I could out of her was that she saw a ghost and felt scared, and went back to sleep! It might have been a really important statement, maybe related to the Desolation? She said that she smelled bur—“

Jon didn’t mean to, but he snapped. “Martin, I’m sorry, but can you please be quiet for one minute!” He shouted, and half-kneeled, half-fell to the ground to rest his aching legs. “Ugh.” He groaned, massaging the sore, tense spot on his lower back that was the source of the pain. 

Martin kneeled down next to him, sounding compassionate, but with a twinge of hurt in his voice. “Oh, my God, are you okay? Is it the Eye, do you need to stop and record?”

Upon hearing this, Jon actually laughed loudly through the aching, his voice echoing across the sky. 

“Jon…?” Martin said cautiously, as Jon tried to compose himself. 

“I’m sorry, Martin, it’s—it’s really not that funny,” he said grinning, his voice still a little pained. “I just find it ironic I’m the harbinger of the apocalypse, an all-mighty acolyte of the Eye, and my sciatic nerve is still being a… well, a bitch.” He laughed. 

“The Almighty Archivist saying bitch?” Martin faux-gasped, then softened his tone. “It must be really bad, I’m sorry. Do you need to stop and rest?” 

Jon nodded, and began the first of many, many stretches that would somewhat relieve the pain. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, it’s just— it’s bad today. I didn’t want to bother you with it.” 

Martin put his hand comfortingly on Jon’s free one. “You won’t be bothering me, I promise. This is probably the easiest problem to fix in a fear apocalypse.” 

Jon smiled. “I suppose you’re right. Just give me a few minutes. You can rest while I stretch.” 

The wind howled around them as Martin sat awkwardly, watching Jon frown deeply as he stretched his legs and back. 

“So…you say it’s bad today. Does it come and go?” Martin asked, mostly just trying to make conversation. 

Jon nodded. “Yes, it does. It’s been happening since I was a teenager. To be completely honest, I’ve never seen a doctor for it; my grandmother always said I was too young to be in pain, and then in uni I was obviously way too broke to see a professional, and then, well, all the stuff with the Institute. I’m used to it now.” 

Martin sighed. “You sound so nonchalant about it. You deserve to not be in pain, you know that right?” 

Jon stopped stretching and turned towards Martin, a wistful look on his face. “I know, yes, and I wish I wasn’t in pain. But it’s been happening for so long, I can deal with it on my own.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have to.” Martin said passionately. “You deserve better.” 

Jon looked at Martin fondly. “Thank you for being angry on my behalf, but really, it’s fine. It’s just embarrassing.” 

“Why would it be embarrassing? It’s not your fault at all, Jon.” Martin said.

“No, I guess it’s not, it’s just— I can’t believe I let it affect me so badly. Other people have it much worse.” Jon muttered. 

Martin walked over and sat cross legged in front of Jon, looking him straight in the face. 

“Look at me, Jon. You know that's not true. The way you feel is the way you feel. It’s okay to rest.”

Jon smiled a real smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Thank you. You’re right.” 

Martin nodded, satisfied with himself. “Can I do anything to help?” 

“Eh… I don’t really think so. It’s just nice to not do this alone.” Jon sighed. “A hot water bottle would really help, but I don’t suppose we can pop into a corner store and get one, huh.” 

Martin shook his head and grinned mischievously. “Not unless Helen has one hidden away, I’m sure she’d be glad to help.” 

Jon made a face. “I’m sure she would absolutely love the idea of the great Jon Sims knocking on her door and asking for medical supplies.” At this, the wind gave an extra loud howl, and Jon and Martin remembered where they were. 

Martin shivered. “Yeah, let’s not encourage her. Are you ready to go?” Jon nodded, gingerly standing and shouldering his pack. 

“Thank you for waiting for me, I know it made us fall behind.”

“It’s okay, hon. You needed to take care of yourself, and that’s okay.” Jon squeezed Martin’s hand affectionately and they set off.


End file.
